


you came to me with a wind that blew from somewhere

by learningcurvette



Series: university of love [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningcurvette/pseuds/learningcurvette
Summary: Carlos finds himself in England, of all places, and somehow everything changes.(Or Carlos gets drunk, applies to a wrong university, and falls in love)
Relationships: Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr
Series: university of love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659874
Comments: 16
Kudos: 108





	you came to me with a wind that blew from somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> title from: flower by yoon mi rae  
> let me start this by saying i don't live in england so i try to keep things as vague as possible. that aside, i hope you enjoy this fic!!

The thing, _the thing is_ , Lando is, perhaps, the worst British he ever met. And somehow, that knowledge only makes Carlos want to kiss him more.

**i.**

Maybe, he should start from the beginning. 

His name is Carlos Sainz Jr. and he has just done the most idiotic thing someone can do in their short, short life. 

**ii.**

Carlos didn't know what he was thinking when he decided he wanted to study in England. It certainly isn't the weather, for sure. The fact that he was drunk when he applied might have been one of the contributing factors. 

He has carefully planned his life to the details. Graduate from high school, go to a local university, continue his father's business, marry someone nice, have three children, and die with twelve grandchildren surrounding him.

Yes, that's a real list. And, yes, you're allowed to judge. Go ahead.

The bottom line is, Carlos is very, very happy with his life in Madrid and his supposed degree in business, _thank you very much_. He doesn't care about England or the criminology degree he suddenly gets saddled with. 

It doesn't help that his father won't forgive him if he refuses to go. His words were, _you make a mistake, you own up to it_.

So, here he stands. A suitcase in one hand and his passport in another, ticket safely tucked inside. His mother is peppering him with kisses while his sisters hover behind her, waiting for their turn. His father only nods his head in goodbye while his cousin looks amused. As if all of this is just one grand joke and Carlos can't help but silently agrees. 

When goodbyes have been said and done, Carlos turns and makes his way to the check-ins.

**iii.**

England is cold. Carlos misses Madrid and Spain the moment he steps out of the plane. But, he persists. You reap what you sow, after all.

He gets into a taxi and gives the driver the address to the student housing near the university where he's going to live until he graduates. Making himself comfortable on the backseat, he turns on his phone and replies to his family's messages to tell them he has landed, and _yes, he's fine_.

He locks the phone and looks out the car window. The bustling city reminds him slightly of Madrid. He smiles his first smile in England. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be alright.

He takes it back.

Carlos stares in annoyance at the room he's going to be living. He doesn't mind the size because he already expects it. What he doesn't expect is the mess that greets him when he steps in. _Oh, Dios mío_ , this is going to be a long term.

" _Ja_ , _hallo_ , there," A voice pops out from behind. With a strangled yelp, Carlos turns around to find himself eye to eye with a tall, blond man. 

"You surprised me," Carlos says after he manages to catch his breath. The blond man looks embarrassed at his words, scratching his head bashfully and apologizes, "Ah, sorry for that."

"Anyway," The blond man continues, embarrassment disappearing in an instant, "I'm Nico. Nico Hülkenberg. A veterinary student, at your service," and extends his hand to shake.

Carlos nods and reaches out to shake Hülkenberg's hand, "I'm Carlos Sainz. I'm taking criminology."

"That's cool. Well, I'm glad you're my roommate," Hülkenberg declares with a grin, "Us foreign students got to stick together, don't you think?"

Carlos offers a hesitant smile in reply but says nothing. Maybe, he'll be just fine.

**iv.**

Everything turns out to be more than _just fine_ to him.

His classes are fun. Everything is fascinating to him. The professors aren't too bad and he's still new enough that the assignments are more good challenges instead of burdens.

Carlos and his roommate, who insists on being called Hulk, get along very well, despite his initial fear and annoyance. The German is a slob, but he keeps his mess to his side of the room and Carlos is grateful for that.

His favorite thing is the weekly Friday night gathering that Hulk has forced him to come to. Apparently, his roommate has taken to heart his own words to get the foreign students to stick together. And here they are now, hanging out in a pub and trading stories of their week.

Carlos hangs back slightly, content to watch the ongoing conversations. Hulk has introduced him earlier to his fellow German students. A Sebastian and another Nico, who currently look to be in the middle of a heated debate. Valtteri, the Finnish student who's sitting next to Sebastian, looks amused at both of the Germans.

Sweeping his eyes around the room, Carlos tries to put names into faces. Like Daniil, a Russian and at the other end, Antonio, an Italian. The pub is filled with laughter and languages he's not familiar with, but somehow he feels at home.

**v.**

_Ah_ , how does he introduce Lando Norris?

Maybe the same way he gets introduced to Lando Norris.

This is how it goes.

**vi.**

"Hey, sorry, uh, got any spare change?"

Carlos looks up from his book, startled. Standing in front of him is Max Verstappen, a Dutch student who Carlos recognizes from the weekly gathering. Carlos marks the page he's reading and closes the book, putting it aside. With a confused frown, Carlos nods, "Yeah, why?"

Max scratches his head and answers, "Uh, my friend there," he gestures with his thumb to somewhere behind him, "Tried to insert coins to the vending machine, but they were rejected. And then, they slipped from his hands and went into the sewer drain."

Carlos stares incredulously at the vending machine across the street. Standing in front of it, with his back to Carlos, is a man with brown wavy hair, wearing a bright yellow jacket. _Who wears colors like that outside?_ Carlos mutely thinks to himself.

Max clears his throat, pulling Carlos from his thoughts, "Yeah, here," Carlos searches his jeans pocket, "Is this enough?"

The Dutch nods, his eyes grateful, "Thank you so much, Carlos, I owe you one."

Carlos snorts, "I think your friend is the one owing me one," After a few heartbeats he continues, "Well, just tell him to be careful next time."

Max grins at the Spaniard's words, "That's like telling the sun to stop shining, but I'll try." 

With a wave, Max turns around and jogs to his friend. Shaking his head at the strangeness of the situation, Carlos reaches out for his book and resumes his reading.

**vii.**

Carlos lays in bed, eyes closed. He thanks whoever is responsible for canceling his classes today. He doesn't hate his classes, per se, but a whole day sleeping in? _God_.

Pulling his blanket closer, he tries to get himself comfortable when suddenly there's a knock on his door.

Carlos groans at the sound. He just wants one second to sleep. He ignores it, hoping the person gets a hint and leaves. But of course, to his luck, the knocks only get more insistent.

A scream to his pillow and one more groan later, Carlos yanks the door open, "Can I help you?"

"Hello," A cheery voice greets him. Standing in front of him is a young man with boyish features and bright blue eyes. _Cute_ , a stray thought leaves his mind. Carlos abruptly feels flushed, "Uh," he repeats more gently this time, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," the young man laughs nervously, "I'm Lando. Are you Carlos?"

_Who's Carlos? I'm the love of your life._

"Is this a prank or something?" Carlos narrows his eyes in suspicion, instead. Not that Carlos is complaining.

The young man, Lando, lets out a loud laugh at that, "My pranks are usually more complicated than this."

_I hope the same thing doesn't apply to your relationship._

"Well," Carlos shrugs, a little confused, "Good, I guess?" 

Lando laughs again. It's a child's laugh, unrestricted and bright, and Carlos can't help but love the sound of it.

_Love? Carlos, you can't just wax poetry about a stranger's laugh. It's creepy. Focus, you stupid._

"—So, I want to thank you," Lando finishes before Carlos manages to hear a single word. "Huh?"

"Sorry, am I speaking too fast?" Lando apologizes, "I want to thank you for lending me money days ago and, uh, return it."

"What money?" Carlos blurts out, confused. There's no way he won't remember lending money to a cute guy like Lando unless he was drunk. Except, he has sworn off alcohol after the stupid incident that landed him here. So, either Lando is a pipe dream or he knocks on the wrong door.

Carlos doesn't know which one is more disappointing to him.

Lando starts talking again, animatedly. Gesturing wildly with his hands, Carlos hears coins and Max and vending machines being mentioned. He tilts his head and watches when Lando starts trailing off and grins sheepishly at him.

It takes him longer to realize, but, "You're Max's friend. The vending machine guy."

The grin widens, "Max's friend, yup. Norris. _Lando Norris_. Film major," Lando searches for his pocket, "Here's the money. Been meaning to return it since ever, but always meet your roommate instead."

**viii.**

That's how he meets Lando.

Then, he meets him again. And again. And again.

_Someone, please, give his heart a break._

**ix.**

One thing Carlos learns about Lando is how spontaneous the Brit can be. 

_Like this._

They're in a library. Well, Carlos _is._ Reading his book and writing notes in a blank paper for reference when someone plops themself to the seat next to him, carelessly dumping a stack of books on to the table. 

"Hey," Lando greets, "Having fun?"

Carlos snorts and pointedly looking at the other man, "Are you?"

Lando laughs loudly, catching everyone's attention. Someone hushes him and he calms down, looking apologetic, before continuing, "I hate my professor," He says, slumping on his seat before straightening up and catches Carlos's eyes, "Know why I choose film?"

Carlos shakes his head, still too distracted by Lando's laugh to properly answer. Lando, unbothered by the lack of response, reveals, "I thought it'll be just filming this and that," he groans, "Why do I have to write papers?"

" _Mi hermano_ ," Carlos replies, holding his laugh, "Welcome to college life."

Carlos watches as Lando scrunches his face up at the words, a flash of irritation passes across his face, but it is gone in a second. He must have been imagining things. 

"Anyway," Lando says, expression bright again, "Want to go karaoke?"

_Or like this._

"Hey," A person bumps into him the moment he steps out the class, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and asks, "Want to try this really cool steakhouse?"

Carlos, tired and dazed from his class, only nods. _Why not?_

"Cool," Lando, he slowly recognizes the voice, declares, "Let's go."

Except, it turns out the steakhouse is two towns away and they end up spending the whole evening in a car. A car that Carlos doesn't even know belongs to whom. But, for the first time in a while, he feels really at peace. 

**x.**

Carlos is in the middle of his Friday weekly gathering when he realizes that maybe he feels something for Lando.

He's sitting across the table from Max who finds himself seated between Daniel, a boisterous Australian that will probably hit things off with Lando, and Charles, a flirty Monegasque who Antonio has dubbed as his fellow Italian. Daniel and Charles are competing to keep Max's attention, all the while flirting with each other. Poor Max is flustered all the way to the neck. Carlos smiles amusedly at his drink, a milkshake, trying not to stare blatantly at the trio. 

The other German Nico has come with a man he has never seen. The sight gets Hulk stomping in annoyance to the newcomers. The Germans talk, more like argue, rapidly in their native language for a few minutes. The poor man is stuck in the middle of their argument, looking confused, and Carlos pities him. 

Both Germans keep going on until Sebastian, coming from the bar with another man Carlos has never seen, yells out, "Oi, Hulk. Stop it you chauvinistic ass. Let them be."

Hulk grumbles but says nothing. Dramatically, he turns on his heel and makes his way to the bar. Carlos watches as Sebastian introduces himself and his friend, a Kimi who's two levels above them, to Nico's friend.

"I'm Lewis Hamilton," The man states, "Nice to meet you."

The accent is clearly British and Carlos realizes why Hulk is annoyed. The foreign students' gathering is no longer a foreign-students only gathering. Carlos snorts, trust Hulk to get worked up over something like that. The man is trying too hard. It's nice to bond with people with similar experiences, away from home and unused to the country. But, new friends are friends in the end.

 _Like Lando_ , he thinks silently. But, Lando isn't a friend. Lando is, _Lando is—_

Carlos struggles at it. _What is Lando to him?_

He looks up from his milkshake, _Lando's favorite drink_ , and stares around the room. He notices Pierre sitting a few tables away, laughing with a girl, hands entwined. And Sebastian, body leaning to his friend who looks down on the German fondly. He watches Kevin and Romain sitting on the bar, shoulders brushing, and talking under their breaths. Max, Daniel, and Charles in front of him smiling at each others, eyes twinkling. 

The answer is on the tip of his tongue and he almost has it, before it eludes him completely. He sighs. _What is Lando, indeed?_

**xi.**

There are times when Carlos misses his mother tongue.

Like when he sits next to the three Germans and listens to them speaking freely in their native language. Or when he's tired but he still has to come for lectures and ends up not understanding a thing. Times like when he has papers to do and his brain hurts from trying to find the fitting word to use. 

English doesn't feel like home, not yet. But, English is Lando's smile and spontaneous, out of the blue invitations to drive away somewhere. English is Lando slurping milkshake and cracking silly jokes. English is Lando's blue eyes and bright jacket.

Carlos stops pretending to not know what Lando means to him. English isn't home, but English is Lando.

But Lando is perhaps the worst British he has ever met.

**xii.**

"You know that punctuality is a virtue, right?" Carlos teases as Lando stops to halt in front of him.

"Huh, what?"

Carlos rolls his eyes, "Just be punctual next time, Norris."

"Pun—," Lando pouts, "What is that?"

Carlos stares at the other man, "You don't know punctuality?"

Lando shakes his head in answer, "Is that some kind of punishment?"

"You know what," Carlos after a moment of silence, "Let's just forget it. I'm starving."

"That," Lando declares with a grin, "I do know."

Or the time when Lando has crashed into his room, Hulk was out somewhere, just to force Carlos to proofread his essay.

"You do know that I'm a criminology student, right? Not English."

Lando smiles pleadingly, "Please? For me?"

 _God_ , Lando could give him a knife and command him to stab himself and Carlos would do it in a heartbeat.

Halfway into the essay, Carlos regrets not stabbing himself when he had the chance.

"How do you spell heights wrong three times with three different spelling? And this one—" 

"Huh?"

"Never mind, where's my pen now?" He rummages around for his pen, desperately in need to fix the mess to lessen the headache forming.

"Here," Lando offers a red pen. Carlos takes it and concentrates on the papers in front of him.

"Carlos?"

With a hum, Carlos glances at Lando, "Yes?"

Lando stares up at Carlos, lips pursued. Carlos tries not to think of it, but his brain is yelling at him to _go kiss him, you idiot_. Only his fear of losing Lando stops him from doing that.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For forcing you to do to this," Lando clarifies. 

Carlos smiles at that, "What are friends good for?"

Lando grimaces at Carlos's reply, his eyes almost angry. But, Carlos blinks and the only thing he sees is Lando's grateful smile.

Strange.

**xiii.**

The Friday weekly gathering comes around and Lando is sitting next to him, their knees brushing under the table.

The pub is rowdy, everyone bringing their partners with them and Carlos can pretend that Lando is here with him, and not because Max ropes him into coming. The same Max who tries to avoid his two admirers for days, only to end up sitting between them. 

"They're so silly," Lando comments amusedly, nursing his beer. Carlos hums in response but doesn't take his eyes off the Brit. Lando scoots closer, "Look at them," he gestures subtlely, "They all want to jump at each other, but think the other two are only interested in each other."

Carlos momentarily tears his eyes off Lando to the three and replies, "Maybe, someone should tell them," before reverting his gaze to Lando again.

"What's the fun in that?"

Carlos shrugs his shoulders, "The truth sets you free?"

"Not always," Lando retorts, "What if it just drives you apart?"

Lando stares right at Carlos, eyes blazing. Carlos swallows at the intensity of it. He has a strange feeling that they're no longer talking about those three. He doesn't know what to say. But that fear? Of losing someone due to truths? Carlos knows enough about it.

"There's also a chance that it will end up pushing you closer," He answers, the words bitter on his tongue. But, it's also the truth. And the truth is always as bitter as it is freeing.

Lando laughs lowly, the sound vibrates through their touching knees, "Maybe, but not on this."

Carlos's jaw sets in determination. He can't do anything about his truth, but Lando? Lando is too important and _too alive_ to be burdened by unspoken truths. 

"You don't know until you try," Carlos states, "Sometimes trying is the only thing we can do." 

"Do you want to try?"

Carlos stills at the question. _Yes_ , he screams internally, _I want to_. 

It's easy to tell Lando that he wants to kiss him and hold his hand. To go on road trips and sleeps under the stars with him. Going on dates instead of casual hangouts. Friday nights spend with Lando by his side and their friends surrounding them.

 _But_ , "No. What to try?"

Lando stands up abruptly, chair pushed back with a loud noise and attracts everyone's attention. He looks angry under the bright lights of the pub, but Carlos knows him enough to notice the disappointment in his eyes. Before he can say anything, though, Lando stalks off to the door, his coat billowing behind him. 

Carlos, without thinking, stands up and runs after him.

**xiv.**

"Lando," Carlos shouts after him, " _Lando_ _!_ "

Carlos huffs in frustration as Lando only walks faster. 

"Lando," he calls and reaches out to grip the other man's wrist, "Lando, please."

"What?" Lando turns around in a flash and glares at him, eyes red-rimmed. 

Carlos' throat is dry when he says, "Are you— _Is there something you want to try?_ "

Lando's eyes dim and he shakes his head, "I thought you want to say something," He stares at Carlos, "I'm a fool."

"Well," Carlos utters, "I don't know anything to say, but there's something I want to try." _Fuck it_.

He closes his eyes and kisses Lando. 

**xv.**

They're laying on Carlos' bed, limbs entwined, when Lando pops the question.

"When did you start liking me?" 

Carlos ponders at the sudden question, trying to pinpoint the exact moment. He shrugs, "When you knock on my door like the devil's on your tail," a smile plastered on his face, "How about you?"

Lando smiles secretively, "Well, that's a long story."

Carlos' eyes crease fondly, "I think we have time,"

" _So_ ,..."

**xvi.**

Carlos has carefully planned his life to the details. 

He's glad it all went wrong, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> there we go. this feels like a mess and it probably is, but tbh i'm proud of the way it turns out. except the ending. i really can't write endings so *shrugs*
> 
> tumblr: ovcrtakes


End file.
